Playing with Demons
by kuroikuu
Summary: It was a sin, a forbidden and foolish sentiment for angels to love demons... but it was more foolish to believe a demon could know love./ AU - Yaoi / On hiatus.


**Disclaimer: **It is with a heavy heart that I admit that the exclusive rights to Prince of Tennis aren't mine, nor will they ever be.

**A/N: **My Akaya-muse kept nagging that I should write his story. This is what happens (a sort of continuation) after the short drabble in my series VT chapter 45. Also, the demons have their own way of speaking, Daemonic, they don't know proper english, so don't expect good grammar there. And lastly, I'll apologize beforehand if the writing sequences and change of p.o.v. confuses you.

Main Pairing: KiriharaxFuji + others will be introduced as the story progresses.

**Warning**(applies to _all_ chapters)**: **alternate universe, shounen-ai, yaoi, mild language, probable OOC-ness, OCs popping out of nowhere, violence, blood, death. (If you can't handle any of these, then don't read.)

* * *

**Terminology: **

**Angels = **A winged race that govern the skies and are protectors of everything that is good.

**Demons = **Horned monsters. Separated into three castes: rage, strife, famine. [_Raged Demons_: hot-tempered demons, with extreme anger. _Strife Demons_: bitter demons, who cause violent conflicts. _Famine Demons_: thief demons, who have to steal to live another day]

**Witches (a.k.a. mages) = **Magical beings, that can go either way in the scale of good and evil.

* * *

**Playing with Demons  
**by: kuroikuu

* * *

Hell

_"Sinners march into the lake of fire that never shall be quenched and the fire shall_  
_scorch their faces, and they therein be in severe affliction." _

He was in hell.

Or at least that was the only explanation he could think of. He was inside a rundown shack—that smelled like burned wood—laying on a makeshift bed of cloths—he also noticed that he wasn't wearing his robes, but just the white pants and shoes he always wore. The only other thing that was inside the small place was a firewood trunk.

Rays of light streamed into the shack through holes from the timber walls. He didn't doubt that said holes were made from a fist going through. He wouldn't expect anything less from a raged demon.

He sat up, but felt his shoulders sag with heaviness. That was strange. He reached to touch his shoulder, but stopped. Realizing that it wasn't his shoulders but his wings, that felt heavy. He looked over his shoulder. His blue eyes widened to see the weaving of magic. It could only mean one thing.

A witch's spell.

It was an invisible string of magic that tied his wings, denying him flight and the ways to return to his home. _Must've been a really powerful mage. _He thought. A mage that has become one with raw magic would have suffice power to cast a spell on any angel, regardless of forte. Although, there were few angels that could break those enchantments.

Fortunately, he was one of those angels. Unfortunately, he didn't have enough strength to do so. After his battle with the rage demon...

He frowned, images of said battle flowed through his mind. He vaguely remembered his fight with the young demon. It had pushed him, his wings painfully hitting the brick wall. Wings were a source of strength. Pull out a feather and it would make even the strongest of angels scream in agony. Tear them apart, and the angel dies.

He then remembered the closeness of the demon. His frown deepened, a tint of pink dusting his cheeks.

The demon had kissed him. With such force that it bruised—he reached to touch his lips. It stung. But that moment was short-lived, for after the kiss the demon knocked him out. And next thing he knew, he had woken in this place, with no trace of a demon and chained by a witch's spell.

Well, he was glad to know the demon didn't do anything to him when he was unconscious. Except take off his clothes.

Heaving a sigh, he hid his wings. The heavy feeling dissipating, but not completely. He looked more human without his wings. All that was left, was to wait. However, if someone does come and rescue him, what would be the possibilities that his rescuer would be able to remove the curse. With his wings tied, being rescued didn't matter, he wouldn't be able to go home.

There was another option. Find the witch and tell him or her to reverse the curse. Impossible. Since witches expect equal payment for their services.

_Did the demon pay to have me chained?_

Now that was an unwanted thought. He had to focus on escaping. Before he could fully stand up, the door busted open. He backed away—or tried to, anyway—hitting the wall behind him. He bit his tongue, keeping himself from cursing, at the pain searing his back.

It was another demon. The honey haired angel closed his eyes, his lips thinning, and face becoming impassive as he studied this new demon.

A tall, shirtless—he idly wondered if these monsters had something against clothing—demon, with mischievous teal eyes. One of his black horns was broken, but it was enough to know that this demon had lived through centuries. His white shoulder length hair—which was messily tied back into a rat tail—contrasted with the blackness of his horns. There was also a scar running the length of his right arm. Due to battle, no doubt.

The demon then spoke in the language only his kind knew.

–

"Heh, so it 'as true. Tha' brat did brin' a enjel." The white haired demon spoke to no one in mind.

Even though the angel had his eyes closed, he could still feel the unwavering gaze. From all the angels he has met, this was the first time he's seen this particular angel.

_Must've be delicate, if tha brat manage to capture_. He mused.

He looked at him up and down. Kinda short and effeminate. If it weren't for the fact that the angel was shirtless, he wouldn't have guessed that he was a male. Rich honey colored hair touched the bottom of his nape, couple of stray strands shaped around his angelic face. Skin that couldn't be described as nothing else but porcelain—he couldn't even see a flaw.

He smirked. No wonder that kid brought the angel here. Brat must've confused _him _for a _her_. But even so, he couldn't deny...

Before he could take another step closer to the angel, a voice spoke behind him.

"Oi, wha' are ya doin'?"

He turned around and came face to face with the brat himself.

"Chekin' out your enjel, Akaya."

Akaya glared at him. Well, the kid was—almost always—angry. Akaya then moved to stand in between him and the angel. He raised an eyebrow at the action, mildly amused.

"Get out and ya better no' tell anyone."

He took a step back. He knew better than to get on the ugly side of a raged demon. Especially since he was already invading the other's home. He stole a glimpse of the angel—who hadn't moved and who's face remained impassive, as he eyed both demons—before he took a couple of steps back exiting through the door that had stayed opened since his arrival.

"Fine, fine, I'll leave ya with your enjel."

Akaya's glare intensified a notch. He chuckled and even after the door was closed on his face, he laughed harder.

–

He had recognized the broken horned demon. The angel had heard, on various occasions, the wicked deeds of this old demon. Masaharu, a strife demon, who enjoys tricking people and making them fight one another. As the years passed, he earned the name of 'The Trickster'.

And he didn't like the way he was looked at by him. A look that told the need and want of doing the unthinkable to him. When Masaharu had attempted to move closer to him, he grew alarmed. But the perplexing thought, was that he had felt relieved when the young demon showed up stopping Masaharu's advancement.

They spoke fast in their native tongue, but he still managed to learn the name of the young demon.

Akaya.

The demon turned around, as if he had heard his name be spoken. He became aware that his eyes had turned blood red. In anger?

Akaya's gaze shifted to his chest and further down. The demon growled, teeth gritting, and turned away.

Does he not like what he sees? The angel furrowed his eyebrows together. He shouldn't even consider thinking such thoughts. It was the second—third?—time his mind would drift away. Something was wrong with him, definitely.

The demon affected him in such ways, that he would lose himself. He had been the same during battle. Wanting to be possessed? That can't be right. Angels couldn't feel nothing but disgust to these vile monsters. None of the angels should be thinking the way he does.

But he's never _thought_ the same way. Unlike his friends, who pity any living creature—demon or not. He could not find any mercy in his heart. Instead, he, an angel, would smile in witnessing the deserved be punished. Finding amusement and satisfaction when seeing suffrage.

_Like a demon_...

His thoughts were cut short, when the demon threw something to his lap. It was a leather water jug. He looked up at him. Akaya was undoing his sword from his waist belt, throwing it to the other side of the shack where the trunk was.

He grabbed the leather jug and removed its cork, bringing it up to his nose, smelling it. The last thing he needed was to be poisoned. His face lifted into a small, unnoticeable smile when he scented the fresh water. Yet, he took a hesitant sip, before drinking it fully. Soothing his throat.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed the blatant stare. His eyes had returned to that shade of green. But were darkened with something he couldn't describe.

The corner of his lips twitched, not knowing why he held back a bemused smile.

An eerie silence settled, and he didn't like it. There was a tension inside the shack that was just waiting to break. He just hoped he would survive.

Night

_"Within the darkest of shadows, within the pitch blackness of night, _  
_they dwell in solitude singing solace to the silent moon."_

Akaya snarled, looking at the sleeping angel on his bed.

Having been driven by his newfound lust, he brought the angel to his home. Proceeding to rip off the white cloth covering his angel. Only to be fooled.

A male.

Aroused by a male!

His black claws curled in increasing anger. Fuck. He couldn't believe he confused him for a female.

And now _that_ strifer knew.

If word got out... he swore he'd kill him. This time for sure, he'll send Masaharu to that fire pit with no way back.

The angel shifted to one side—his green eyes automatically locked on the flawless body. In the back of his head, he had supposed that that beauty couldn't possibly be male.

The image of his blue eyes during battle crazed him. Though the angel looked frail, he had the strength to fight him head on. Managing to deep cut him, not once but twice. Knowing that there was someone that can injure him so, aroused something in him. He began to _want_ the angel. Different from the usual urge to kill.

Akaya had never felt that way. His instincts told him to claim what was given to him. And he did. Stealing a kiss.

The young demon suddenly felt sick.

He kissed another male.

He flared. Damn. He was maddening himself.

This was the first time he felt overwhelming _lust_. He always deduced he'd find a rogue female to sedate his needs. Like the rest of his brotherhood did... although, there were some that didn't care about gender, and only looked for a good fuck.

He had asked about it, once before. He was too young to understand, they said.

Akaya was still considered young in the village, having only lived for half a century. Masaharu had teased him that he looked like a twenty-year old human and acted like a reckless ten year old.

He was more insulted at being called human, than a ten year old.

His ears perked. A twig broke feet away from his home. An animal? Or an intruder? He reached for his sword, holding it's hilt, ready to unsheathe. He stayed still. The only sounds was the soft breathing of the angel.

Five minutes passed and he still hadn't heard anything outside. He shifted a little and peered outside through a hole. He saw nothing.

–

More than an hour had past, and he still couldn't get rid of the feeling that something was out there. He should be awarded a prize for his patience, he thought. His kind didn't exactly know the meaning of such a petty word. And the only reason he stayed within the four walls, was because of—

His head snapped towards the angel. He swore he heard a sound come from the sleeping figure. There it was again. A low groan sounding akin to pain.

Akaya frowned—then wondered why he frowned. He reveled in pain, not worry about it.

With a grunt, he stood from where he was and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He had better chance of finding what bothered him, instead of just sitting and doing nothing.

Two minutes into his search and he found what he was blindly looking for.

His brother, another raged demon, one that had accompanied him when he and three more had crossed the angels territory. But he lives? He was sure that his team had been killed by the two angels—his angel being one—that were sent to kill them for trespassing.

"Yu' hav a e-enjel." His voice was thick with malice.

"He's mine." There it was again. That possessiveness.

He saw his brother's eyes dilate to blood, and abruptly he moved, claws—larger than his own—ready to lash. Instantly he reached to his waist for his sword. His hand met air. He scowled. How could he have forgotten his weapon?

Akaya roared, baring his fangs.

–

When he woke for the second time, he felt like he slept for hours, and the first thing he became aware of was of the darkness. The second, was at the pain shooting across his head. The demon struck him out cold. Again. He looked around the shack. But couldn't see anything—not even his hand in front of him. And the demon was gone, for he didn't feel another's presence near him.

He stood, wobbling at first, and when steady he walked couple of steps, until his extended hand touched the wall he knew the door was. Blindly he looked for the knotted rope that served as door knob, when his fingers brushed it, he pulled, opening the door.

It was too dark, as if a black cloak had been thrown over him. He looked up to the sky. He saw the distant stars. Too dull to lighten anything. He took a tentative step outside, and another, his eyes adjusting to the dark. Either way, the angel didn't rely on his senses but on his instincts.

As soon as he began walking straight, the angel crashed into what he guessed was a tree. He shouldn't get careless. He laughed softly. His friend would have said that to him under any circumstances.

_Saa... what would 'Mitsu do?_

He wondered if he was still on Earth. Because the last time he checked, hell has no trees. He casually touched the tree he bumped into. He frowned. Then he bent to touch the ground. The same. He felt no life near him.

He sighed, so much for that plan. It made things more difficult to move around, if he couldn't sense another living thing. At times like these he envied those who could see in the dark.

Envy? That feeling only made him more different. Angels don't envy.

He continued moving forward with precise steps. Fifteen minutes into his walk, and he felt like he was walking in circles. He was sure he hadn't walked that far.

When a flicker of light appeared above him, the angel immediately looked up.

He saw the moon rise above a tip, brightening everything with its silvery light and casting new shadows, making it less dark. He noted, that with the moonlight, he could make out the silhouettes of the mountain peeks surrounding the area.

He was in a valley, in the bottomless pit of five mountains. At once understanding why it had been so dark.

The moon would only lit when it's above the valley, which would make it dark again in a few hours, when the moon hid behind another peek. The same would apply to the sun. In other words, there was more hours at night, than day.

The perfect place for demons to live.

He looked around him with new alight. Finally recognizing the trees. Ash trees. Forever burned, dead, never to spring. Demon's used the firewood deep withing the tree to build. He reached and pulled a loose bark, it easily disintegrated into ash in his hand.

He cleaned his hand and continued walking, with the few hours he knew he had, he should be able to make a good distance...

If only he could fly.

Snapping out of his thoughts. He was suddenly tackled to the ground. Going down with a 'humph'.

A voice, he recognized as Akaya's, rasped in his ear.

"Doona' leave"

Desire

_"This restless craving in the soul is what shall spur them to wander the earth_  
_seeking satisfaction to their anguished yearning." _

Akaya clenched his arm around his chest. Trying to stop the flow of blood.

It had all happened so fast. His brother had dug his claws deep, tearing the skin. He had responded by kicking him in the stomach, sending the blood-eyed demon backwards. Giving him the chance to slice his neck. Successfully detaching his head, thus killing the raged demon.

_The less tha know 'bout my enjel, better._ He thought, dragging the corpse towards a cliff that stood half kilometer away from his shack. He didn't know why he bothered in hiding the corpse. Everyone knew that he'd kill anyone who would dare approach his home. He wasn't the one blamed, but the fault of those morons that died at his hand.

Dam'it. The only reason he didn't send Masaharu to the pit, was because he was a friend. The guy practically raised him. And he had only found out about his angel was because he was seen when he brought him. Though Akaya tried to hide him, the moment he stepped outside, that bastard had used the opportunity to sneak in.

The pain on his chest pricked. Fuck. He coughed up blood. He didn't think the wound was that serious. Demons fight dirty, which was most likely the only rule in a death game with no rules, they didn't care who died as long as they came victorious.

Finally reaching the cliff. He unceremoniously threw the body over. Wild animals will feed on him, tonight.

Feed.

He would have to feed the angel, since he was certain he wouldn't be able to sustain on just water. Akaya didn't want this angel dead. He showed a fierceness in battle, that he thrived to experience again. And maybe this time, he'd get to see the angel's full potential.

But, he still didn't know his name. Tonight. Tonight, for sure, he'll make the angel speak.

With anew determination, he smirked, pacing towards his home.

Not half way there and his smirk turned into a frown. Through the ashes and blood, Akaya scented his angel. Moving on the opposite direction.

His eyes widened.

In fury, he began to ran. Dodging trees from left and right. Ignoring the pain on his torso, as he exerted over his limits.

The angel was running away. _His enjel!_

Although he knew, he could not go far by walking, he loathed the idea of him leaving his side without permission.

Running as fast as he could, he faintly smelled which way. He almost stumbled over a risen tree root, in spite of it, he spotted his angel. Unthinking of his action, he leaped and seized him, both tumbling to the ground. He held him tight in his arms, whispering a heedless plea.

Akaya heard his angel moan in pain. He relished the sound.

Upon looking at his angel, he couldn't tear his eyes away. Creamy skin was milkier, moon translucent. Blue eyes glinted celestially, becoming glittery with the moon shining on them. Honey brown hair, that got tousled with the fall, framed his angelically sweet features.

He licked his lips. An ethereal body basked in silver light. _Underneath him_.

He flared.

Not in anger. But arousal. His mind went blank, eyes darkening. Gender didn't matter to him in this state. He wanted, needed, to ravish this body. Marking, claiming, him as his.

–

Captured so easily. All over again. Of course, the demon would know which way he took. These creatures had heightened senses. More so than angels. They had the uncanny ability to see far and in the dark.

"_Doona'leave,enjel."_

He didn't understand what he said. The words were messily said together. In daemonic, no less.

Akaya was heavy above him. He's had enough of this. His back wouldn't last much longer if the demon kept plummeting him against something.

"Get off."

To accompany his demand, he fisted his hands and pounded the demon's shoulders. Though Akaya seemed not to hear or feel. The young demon's eyes turned black. And the angel felt a surge of... _panic_? That was the first time he'd felt a feeling such as panic. His mind and intuition were screaming at him to get away. Yet, his body stayed.

The way this demon was looking at him—with great fervor—made his body stay. The angel gasped when he felt a hand smooth down his inner thigh. Blue eyes widening as realization hit him.

"Ya name."

The demon spoke in both daemonic and human.

"Syusuke."

He wasn't sure what prompted him to respond. Nor was he sure he cared, for when he saw Akaya grin, his mind drifted. A grin different from the one he saw in battle. There was no hint of feral amusement, or of war joy. This grin showed sincere contentment.

"Shuuske."

His name was gruffed. Sounding almost like a tender hoarse.

Akaya nuzzled his neck. Inhaling his smell, then he began to lick his skin, nibbling as if in hunger. A roving, calloused hand pulled the hem of his pants. The panic he felt earlier, enfolded him. The angel swiftly switched their positions. His knees held the demon's shoulders to the ground and hands gripped his wrists on either side of his head.

"You'll have to stop doing that."

Syusuke didn't think he'd lied. However, the stingy sensation on his tongue did. It baffled him, but did not venture the thought. He'd have time later to clear his thoughts.

The demon's red tongue brushed over his lower lip, he did not struggle for dominance, instead he benefited from the position. Shaded eyes roamed his body. Does he like now what he sees?

He looked down at himself, his eyebrows rose at seeing blood everywhere. He hadn't noticed it. A lot covered his chest. At soon comprehending, the demon was injured. Losing lots of blood. He must've raced his blood whilst searching for him and didn't give time to heal.

_Who did this to him?_ He pondered. _Later. _He told himself, slightly aggravated that his thoughts seemed to be drifting all the time. _I'll think about all of this later._

Akaya's irises became opaque. Losing their light. Suddenly, he coughed blood. A lung was probably punctured. Syusuke let go of the demon and stood up, taking a step away. The demon's chest rose and dropped consistently, his breathe becoming ragged. This demon won't survive the night.

* * *

Tbc...


End file.
